


Rooftop

by hopealop3



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, gloves is gay and he is yearning, i spell half-rimz with a z im so sorry if this bothers anyone, i think gloves says it with a z on purpose it makes him cooler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopealop3/pseuds/hopealop3
Summary: Gloves is home again, hanging on the roof with his best friend, Half-Rimz. He hasn't been home in ages and especially hasn't been up on the roof in a while. It's kind of nostalgic, honestly. Everything's just how it used to be... well, except for his hearts hammering in his chest.
Relationships: Gloves/Half-Rim (Splatoon)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> what if we kissed on your roof? haha jk...unless😳
> 
> (written in December of 2019, make of that what you will. rimz ink color is purple for fun)

Gloves found himself sitting on his mom’s roof, his old roof, legs crossed and staring into the night sky. It was surprisingly bright and colorful for the city, the hazy light pollution gone and replaced with what looked like a picture of galaxies straight from the Hubble telescope; very purple, a bit misty and filled with stars.

There was no sound. No helicopters, no planes, no busy streets, not even people just walking or the sound of his Mami watching reality TV at the absurd hours of the night she always did, except for-

Rimz.

He had cleared his throat a while ago, hadn’t he? That’s why Gloves was holding a mostly empty grocery bag in his lap, because they had bought snacks and were going to share them with each other on the roof like they always did when they were kids. He probably wanted one of their snacks.

Gloves ran a hand through his hair and turned towards Rimz’ giving him an awkward smile. He wasn’t looking at him, though, he was looking at the stars just like he was moments prior. The galaxy around them was reflecting in his lenses, making it difficult to see his eyes underneath them.

“What did you want?” Gloves asked him, staring a bit too intently at his glasses' temples. He shook the plastic bag again just for good measure.

“Could you pass me my grape soda?” He asked, finally turning to face him. Gloves let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He didn’t realize how hard he was anticipating to see Rimz’ stupid pretty eyes. 

It took him a second, but he responded, trying hard to be casual about it.

“Yeah, yeah, lemme just-“ he rummaged through the bag until he saw the purple bottle and handed it to Rimz by the neck. Rimz bumping his fingertips as he moved to grab the bottle made him freeze up _too much_ in his personal opinion.

He watched as Rimz turned away from him to take a sip of his soda before screwing the previously opened bottle shut. He placed it behind him, keeping it from rolling off the slanted roof by tucking it behind his phone with a pop socket attached to the back.

Gloves scooted a bit closer, holding his breath as he set the bag of snacks behind him. He looked back at the stars but kept glancing back at Rimz and holding them for a few seconds too long each time, noting his hair being a dusty purple now, and his lips, and his eyes behind his glasses, and how his loose shirt draped over him, and his lips… his face was changing color. 

Gloves found himself inching closer and closer to Rimz’ until they were moments apart. He was staring awkwardly at his hand, a few centimeters adjacent to his, before looking up at Rimz. He wasn’t sure if it was shock or anticipation in Rimz’ eyes. He could feel his chest tighten and he could practically tell he had ink running down his neck. He must’ve looked really stupid, just a few seconds away from Rimz’ lips…

Gloves felt his face grow hotter and tinglier as he watched Rimz shift positions so his whole body was facing his now. Gloves matched him and raised a hand up towards Rimz’ face… and brought it to the bridge of Rimz’ nose, pushing his half-rim glasses up. 

“You’re glasses are falling,” he explained, trying his best to come off as nonchalant but the weakness in his voice was telling. He turned himself away from Rimz and leaned back, but not quick enough to avoid feeling Rimz chest move as if he was chuckling silently with the hand he had left on his chest. The hand he had closed into a light fist 

“Thanks,” Rimz responded, but to Gloves' surprise, his voice was just as weak and nervous as his. 

He could feel his hearts hammering in his chest as he turned look at Rimz again. He hadn’t moved from his position, well, besides for his hands, which were now fists gripping his pants tight in his lap. 

“It’s no problem.” He started staring at his hair and thinking about how much he wanted to move it out of the way to get a better look at his face. He felt like he was an astronaut on a spacewalk, aimless but attached by a tether of some sort...attached to reality by the fact that Rimz was here with him and was getting closer.

His ears were ringing as Rimz leaned towards him, his previously fisted hands inching up his arms to pull him in closer. His ears were still ringing, and he was pretty sure he was literally about to implode from the touch. 

He helped Rimz out by sliding closer to him, almost sitting on his lap. If Rimz’ wasn’t sitting on his knees, Gloves’ was pretty sure their legs would’ve been intertwined on the rooftop. The ringing persisted. 

Gloves winced, knowing that talking would interrupt whatever this hold was about to become, but…

“Do you hear that?”

Rimz seemed to shrink back. It only made Gloves yearn even more to pull him back in, but closer this time. Closer so he would never want to let go.

“Hear what?” Rimz’ voice was incredibly small in what felt like an endless void of space and weightlessness and his touch. Gloves’ mind was boiling like water on the stove.

“Th-the ringing..” Gloves explained, the noise only growing louder by the second now that he brought his attention to it. He didn’t want to lose Rimz’ gaze, but he was getting curious and somewhat concerned.

“What ringing?” 

The excited tightness in his chest was replaced by heavy fear. “Yknow, the ringing…”

“Gloves.” Rimz shook him lightly, holding him farther and farther away, inching his knees back like his tether to the spaceship was unraveling way too fast and way too soon. “There’s no ringing.”

Gloves found himself scrambling up Rimz’s arms, trying to pull him back in by the shirt. “What do you mean?” He couldn’t lose him. He was so close. He needed to be this close. He wanted him to be closer. His desperate thoughts made his mind sizzle and spin.

Rimz didn’t fight against Gloves’ pulling, but he didn’t look as sheepish as he did before. “Nothing’s ringing,” he explained, his previously quiet voice now louder and stern. He was still gripping the sides of his shoulders, but his hands were moving towards his neck and it was making Gloves’ brains short circuit.

A stream of ink fell down Gloves’ face. It took him a second in his flustered state to process how serious Rimz sounded, how _concerned_ he sounded. 

“What-?” Gloves started, but as he was losing grip, the ringing started to sound a lot like-

*****

Gloves flung his eyes open to an alarm blaring on the mattress next to him. He was staring at the bumpy ceiling, face flushed, gripping the blanket like it was his lifeline. It took his dazed state a few more seconds to realize he hadn’t turned his alarm off. 

He let go of the blanket and rolled onto his side, his mind filled with soupy static, and turned his 3rd alarm off. It was 6:15am. Light filtered through the blue curtains giving everything a tint like he was underwater under tons of pressure. The bed below him was messy and undone like someone had just climbed out of it. The ceiling fan was on but the light wasn’t, it was twirling slowly above him, two arms out of reach. 

Gloves slept in. Again. And he dreamt about kissing him...again. He climbed out of bed and down the steps of his bunk bed onto ground level. Dramatically, he fell backward in defeat onto Rimz’ bed. Not because he was still tired, but because it smelled just like him, just like being so close he could kiss him did. Gloves’ face was still hot, and would still be for another 20 minutes that morning.


End file.
